Holidays for the Disenfranchised

After lots of mad googling different variations of "I hate holidays" just to see what the results might be; and, of course, failing because I suck at mad googling; stupid search results kept coming back with Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years'...and I was thinking more of I hate ALL holidays except Halloween...perhaps I should have typed that in the search bar (run on sentence, anyone?) I wondered if someday I might be, er stupendously sad when no one is around to remind me that, yes, there is a holiday approaching.

As a kid and teenager, and even in my early 20's, I put a lot of effort into showing up at holiday gatherings to appease the grandparents. Well, just one set of grandparents, really.  The maternal grandparents I basically felt no attachment towards. Still don't. So, I'd go be bored and hang out with all the people I had nothing but blood in common with just because Grandma and Grandpa would like it.  Once the "main event" such as egg hunting or opening presents or, even, eating was over there was just nothing to do.  Even the eating part was usually a flop. (I'm not particularly fond of ham, turkey or mashed potatoes and gravy. Plus my Grandma was into her kooky cooking phase and what should usually be benign  foods such as spaghetti, might turn out to be noodles layered in ketchup because Grandma didn't want to run to the store for spaghetti sauce and ketchup and spaghetti sauce are both--get this--made from tomatoes--so therefore are the SAME! She also had the same belief about pizza sauce.)  So I'd just feel like I'd wasted my time and hung out with my cousins who were 10-15 years older than me and with which I still can't relate. 

My grandparents wanted their little family to be nice and close. I can't blame them. They only had two kids...who fought like cats and dogs despite being 4 years apart in age...and who weren't particularly close at all until Grandma was really really ill and now, I believe that both their parents are dead, they are closer than they ever have been.  My Aunt and my Dad have and always have had different lifestyles.  This just made for stilted, strange, uncomfortable holidays.

My maternal grandparents apparently had at it like rabbits and bore a HUGE family--9 kids who all had kids--some of them several--so that we barely all fit in the same house at gatherings which made for claustrophobia and nervousness in yours truly.  Lots of us were all close in age...and liked to play rowdy tackling games which, made my Grandfather yell at the top of his lungs at us to shut the hell up. Yep. He definitely still has quite a way with words. He's the only one of my grandparents who are still alive. They say the good die young, and, in this case, I'd have to say that would seem correct.

At least I had rowdy cousins on that side of the family and we could go get into trouble doing things like playing in the creek, and accidentally stepping in cow shit, or letting too many "GOD DAMN FLIES IN THE HOUSE!" (Yes, my Grandfather. It didn't seem to matter that there was a barn cat on the table eating the butter that someone was too lazy to cover, but GOD DAMN FLIES IN THE HOUSE was an issue.)

I get a card from my mom every holiday that says: Happy Easter, Merry Christmas, Happy Thanksgiving" She's very reliable with the card-sending. I love that, actually. No one else does that. Just Mom.  But, at the same time, I am reminded that a holiday is approaching and  I really wonder if I am going to be suckered into participating yet again.

The very best holidays are:

1. The Christmas I spent with no electric for ten days due to a huge ass ice storm.  Yep. We were HAPPY to be eating ramen noodles with water heated up using the wood burner in the basement. And I was fucking happy to get warm after spending 5 hours in a barn with cows  but the temperature outside was -20 all week, so cold even the cow shit and piss was frozen solid everywhere.  And absolutely NO ONE was worried about presents, or holiday meals or cleaning for guests.  We were too busy carrying firewood, and hauling water from a my uncle's farm because he had a generator and our well didn't make water without electricity to pump it to the house.

2. The Christmas I moved to Michigan.  No stove, no fridge. No food. (We'd moved only 7 days before Christmas. My dad was so angry with me for moving that even though I knew my grandma would have wanted me to, I didn't take any of the appliances in the trailer that had been hers--which is where I was living--except the dryer I'd bought used for $50 from an old ASM.)  We foraged for food at a CVS and ate microwave pizza rolls. Nothing was open. But, lucky for us, old people need medicine. I  was too overwhelmed by the move to spend time with Jon's family--or--with strangers. I now worked with strangers, and lived in a place where I didn't understand anyone's modus operandi. But, it was fun being uncomplicated.

3. Do-Over Holidays spent with friends. Everyone contributes, there is nice food, and good conversation with close friends. Do-Over Thanksgiving was the shit last fall. Also because Real Thanksgiving, spent with Jon's weird family was miserable with a capital M.  I like his immediate family well enough. It was all the weird cousins and what not...and their prying, why don't you and Jonny have kids crap that really pissed me off. I basically convinced one of his cousins that yes, I AM SATAN and EAT BABIES for breakfast.  Something like that.  She really pissed me off so I just continuously exaggerated my real feelings until she became uncomfortable enough to alert Jon of my feelings, as if he didn't already know. He actually thought it was pretty funny that I was messing with her.

I guess I'm a non-traditional non-conformist. I like things to be simple and mostly a lot weird.  Things don't have to fit into a perfect holiday mold, in fact, when it does, I have a lousy time.  If Grandma would have accidentally farted during the prayer or something during all those long ago holidays, things would have been a whole lot more enjoyable.  (The prayer is always a horrible measure of discomfort. Like, um, why are we praying?  Why does your head need to be bowed and your eyes closed? Does God only want you to say thanks for holiday meals?  And, how do you know he's not totally bored of all those forced holiday prayers that loads of people are saying simultaneously? There were always lots of questions like that in my little mind. Still are. If I can't get an answer that makes sense, then it must be stupid. Especially if the answer consists of "BECAUSE!" or "IT JUST WORKS THAT WAY!"

Do I miss my Grandma and Grandpa D. Yes. Do I miss "Holiday Grandma and Grandpa D", not really. Grandma loved to take inappropriate photos. Constantly. She didn't do that if it wasn't a holiday or a birthday.  There are thousands of photos out there with various random body parts of my relatives. Grandma was a shutterbug, but her aim was terrible. Lots of headless relatives.  Lots of so and so's ass while hunting Easter eggs.  That sort of things. This really must have disappointed her when she got the film back.  Before she "modernized" in the early 90's, she was still using some old late 70's early 80's camera that used flash cubes. 

I actually think she had this particular camera:

That thing on top is a flash cube for those of you who are too young to have seen one.

So, after much rambling, I don't think I shall be sad if there is no one around to remind me that "It's Easter/Christmas/Thanksgiving/President's Day...I think I'll just stick to remembering all the other, way more important days. Like when Grandma farted accidentally when sneezing. (To her, bodily functions were the absolute height of embarrassment, so this was always an event for me as a kid, who was, as kids are, fascinated by fart noises.)

Getting Ready to Paint/Belle Isle

Well, it turned out we didn't need the plywood and flooring Jon bought for the bathroom.  The flooring we have isn't pretty, but stick on tiles would solve the bits that are unsightly if we decide to do that.  So we returned stuff at Home Depot and got our $95 back.  Kind of...

I recently broke our giant bathroom mirror while trying to rehang it so I could, I don't know maybe remember to look at myself in the mornings before I go to work. I often don't even think about it and get halfway through the day realizing I have some ink or a giant zit or my hair is all sticky uppy all because there wasn't a mirror and therefore I forgot to be conscious of my appearance.  The antique mirror my dad got from somewhere isn't as large, but its a lot nicer.  It has a nice frame.  It just doesn't cover the layers of wall damage that happened after the original 50s tile was ripped out of the bathroom, probably sometime in the 70s, if the date on the back of the mirror I broke is any indication.

So....I had some leftover joint compound about, because I had to fix various holes in our walls when we moved in from, I don't know, old screws, or whatever.  And I decided I could "fix" the ugly wall damage by using the joint compound to rough up the plaster in the bathroom to look like old stucco.  Basically just camouflage it so its not as noticeable.    Then I ran out of joint compound. So we used our credit for joint compound, some spring green paint (that's going to be the bathroom color because the saturated purples I like just seemed too dark.) some floodlight bulbs because we've never replaced the ones that burnt out or were hit by a falling branch, and some florescent bulbs for the kitchen fixture because they won't light.  Florescent bulbs are twitchy and I optimistically believe its the bulbs, not the fixture because they TRY to light but just won't catch.  Those haven't worked in....I dunno, a year or more?

Yep, when someone in your house isn't working things like lightbulbs go by the wayside and you buy only the important things and then try to play catch up.

It's amazing the things you can do without when you must. I am quite the expert in this by now.

Fresh paint always makes me feel better.

Last thing I painted was our kitchen cabinets and the front room.  When we moved in all the way back in the summer of 2010.  I meant to paint the bathroom, the bunny room, our bed room and repaint the dining room the same exact shade it is only because I love it and it needs touched up.  Things fall to the side.  Don't get done.

I even bought some white paint for trim.  I need to do all the trim in the house, really, and some of the bedroom doors. Someone painted them with white primer and its chalky and seems to gather stains quite easily. Stains that won't wipe off.

Earlier in the day I made my fist trip to Belle Isle.

The Aquarium there had been closed until recently when a bunch of volunteers and people with donations made it possible for it to be open on Saturdays.  A lot of the tanks are still empty.  Lots of those empty tanks have been filled with art by various sponsors such as Michigan Glass and other types of artists...which is pretty fucking awesome.  The tanks that are occupied by fish have a range of species from tadpoles, to rare fish, to endangered fish, to ciclids, two salt water tanks, and the building is just wonderful architecture.

No one makes things like this anymore.

The Conservatory is next door.  It was designed by the same architect and is also very, very grand.  It has plants of various climates.  The outdoors is a huge formal garden that was barren because of the season but daffodil and tulip sprouts seemed to assure me that spring really is on its way.  Despite the cold lately.

I want to go back in nicer, warmer weather.

I miss my Rumu

I have Ruth-Withdrawal Syndrome.

Meaning, I need some sort of long, extended visit with RuMu.

New job is awesome for no boredom and such.

New job is not so awesome for girl time.

I have agreed to work a Sunday so that I won't have to drive in an extra day for a stupid store meeting, meaning I get a Wednesday off.  I need to bother the Ruth that day.

No more Piss on my Feet!

After three weeks of waking in the night having to pee and locating; in the dark, my peeing-down-the-floor drain shoes then half peeing on my feet anyway, shuffling back to bed mildly disgusted and hoping my next poo will be at work so I won't have chose between pooping on the floor drain and bagging the poo like I'd bag dog poo or lining the defunct toilet with one of those stupid plastic shopping bags they dole out at every retailer on the planet and pooping in that, I can actually flush away all the ick and not pee on my feet.

Yes, the toilet is fixed.

I can also mix hot and cold water in the kitchen, shower, washing machine, and bathroom sink. I have a main shut off that I wouldn't be terrified to turn off in an emergency and an outside spigot.  Such riches.

Of course I am in debt again..and by a lot.  But eh, no more toting buckets to wash dishes. And I could even turn the hot water heater back up so I can take a hot shower.  I had to turn it down a couple years back when the bathroom spigot quit working so we wouldn't scald to death.  There are many ways around every thing plumbing and I unfortunately got to know all of them pretty well. 

The guy was a licensed plumber, could have charged us more, and worked all week an hour or two at a time because we couldn't be home earlier in the day.  The faucets he installed aren't pretty. But what the hell, they fucking work.  I don't really give that much of a damn.  They'll be easier to replace now that he's done all the difficult work if we decide we hate them that much. Jon was fairly critical.  But I told him I didn't really give a crap so long as the kitchen faucet was tall enough to get big pots beneath and he did deliver on that.

We even ended up with $100 left of what we borrowed so we can pay that back really simply.

I met my "new" neighbors next door, or, well, the man.  His name is Martin. He saw Jon poking at his Jeep and assumed he knows a lot about cars. Hahahahahaha....anyway...I thought it was funny.  Jon just has to put oil in it constantly, and other such things. It's old.  Apparently his kid's Explorer is making weird noises or something and he wondered if it was going to die.  Jon just recommended a mechanic.  He seemed nice. They have so far kept to themselves after that annoying bit of time when they were insistent on turning about in our driveway, which I parked across once and they have thus far stopped doing it.  Also, can't hate on a guy with a big plow on the front of of his truck who, every time there was a decent amount of snow, plowed out the street before the city.

Kung Fu Grand Master Hi Lo Operator

I think I need some kind of new time management strategy.

At work, I'd like to delegate some of my responsibilities onto a co-worker. My responsibilities are triple normal capacity. My predecessor decided to just simply not print hang tags for items in the side lot or make those annoying 8 X 11 signs for nearly all outside items.   Therefore, I am already behind. ASM has been great about it, making some signs for me for the front lot while I tossed freight. 

I simply lack the time.

An example of my Friday:

4 am: wake up
4:30 am: leave house
4:55 am: pull into work, notice a semi truck lurking out back
4:55:30 am: wonder what evils lurk in that semi trailer
5 am: ASM arrives, walk into building, start pushing freight
7 am: start pushing totes
7:40 am: fill out the forklift inspection sheet
7:50 am: unlock night locks, use torch on one
8 am: truck driver approaches, hands me bill of lading
8:05: unload 5 pallets of horse bedding pellets
8:30 : check rain checks on  horse bedding and any freight items I may have missed, call customers
9 am: do negative on hands
9:01 (there weren't any, weird) start front lot signage of trailers, pallets, ect with the signs ASM so nicely printed
10 am: key out defectives
10: 15 am:  key out inventory adjustments
10:45 am:  check in Exide Batteries

11 am: lunch!!!!!

11:30 am: rotate and stock Exide Batteries, try to make them all fit on one pallet (fail, they sent too many)
12:30 pm:  check in UPS deliveries
1:00 pm: start backroom clean up, work 2 remaining dog/bird/cat small bag/box pallets
1:30 pm:  load out 20 bags of horse bedding that was on raincheck
1:40 pm: forklift runs out of propane
1:41 pm:  Princess' father comes to alert me that he's here to pick up the tractors he had out for repair
1:42 pm:  I alert him that I will be right with him as soon as I switch out the propane tank on my forklift
1:45 pm: I give him the paperwork for his tractors, send him to the registers
2:00pm: He still isn't through the register, so I enlist Jason to help load tractors into Princess' father's horse trailer so I can clock out on time.

Whew....I'm tired.

It's nice the days go in a snap, though, instead of relentless pacing around at the register.  Even though the fax machine and I don't get on, and the night lock/ monkey puzzle/chinese finger trap device and I don't get on...I am good unloading feed/wood pellets, lol.  The freight truck, well, its one hell of a challenge.  So is the loading the empty pallet truck.  Oh, the salt truck was fairly simple as well.  So its two trucks that I really don't want to see--ever...until I get better with the forklift and then I will consider myself a grand master.